Safe Ground
by WaterGhost
Summary: Sometimes doing the job they did felt like running on sinking ground. When everything is falling apart around you, sometimes there is someone that you can hold on to, and can hold on to you. Even if it's the person you least suspected.
1. Chapter 1

CBS owns Criminal Minds, not me. If I did, Emily Prentiss would be mine!

A new project for me, something completely different. I'm going to start off slowly and get a feeling for the characters since this is my first Criminal Minds fic, so give me lots of feedback and let me know what you think.

*****

Safe Ground

_I'm running. _

_My legs burn with lactic acid, my lungs from the cold night air. I'm running._

_And I'm terrified._

_There are footsteps close behind, and I know that I'm being followed. Known for a while now._

_I'm being followed._

_I can't remember who, I don't know who, but he's fast, and he's right behind me, and I'm scared. I'm in the woods, dodging trees at every step and leaping over falling logs and wading through brush. I don't feel the cuts that are inevitably accumulating on the skin of my neck and forearms, most likely from the adrenaline. I'm panicking, which is not good. I stumble over a log, rip my pants, but get up and keep running as fast as my flagging energy will keep me. Tired, my body says, but my mind is screaming, run!_

_After minutes that seem like hours, I run into a wall. A solid red brick wall, no hand holds or steps. Just too tall for me to climb. Now I'm really panicking. _

"_Oh God," I think. "I'm going to die."_

_I run along the wall, looking behind me for the assailant chasing me. I can hear him but not see him, so I keep running, yelling at the top of my lungs for help._

_Someone for the love of God, please help me!_

_This cannot be happening. I think briefly of Henry not having his mother, and if I wasn't so exhausted right now I think I might cry. _

_Then, dark, cold, wet._

_I've fallen, I've sunk. It is water, I've fallen into water, and I can't touch the bottom. I kick my legs furiously, beat the water with a fierce tattoo and claw for the surface. But I'm not going up, and I swallow only water. I am drowning._

_God, no._

_I'm dying, I can't breathe._

_But, just then, I see a hand. Pale, small, and white, and moving through the water to grab mine. A strong arm pulls me back to the surface, where I gulp great big breaths of precious air as soon as my head breaches the film between water and atmosphere._

_I am alive. The arm is joined by a second, and they haul me from the water onto muddy ground, I cough and gasp and shiver from the cold water._

"_You're safe, Jennifer. Don't worry."_

_I look for the face of my savior, but can't see it. Where?_

"_You're safe, don't worry…"_

_I reach out for the person that saved me…_

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep….

"_Where are you? I can't see you!"_

Beep, beep, beep…

"_Jennifer…"_

The alarm.

I was asleep.

Now I'm not. Shit.

Morning. 6:30. Too early. The information filters into my mind that it is time to get up and get ready for work. I stretch and rub sleep from my eyes, allow them to get adjusted to the light that flows through the cracks in the blinds and into the bedroom. The sun has just risen.

I stretch my arms and legs to get my body moving, expecting to hit Will.

But nothing. The bed is empty. I frown and turn out, feel the spot where he is supposed to be, expecting a warmth to tell me that he is already awake and up. But the bed clothes are unruffled, the sheets are cold. He was never home last night.

"Hmm."

I should feel panicked, or sad, but instead I am just confused. But in all honesty, I've woken up alone several days in the past few months to find cold sheets, and just felt confusion instead of jealously, or anger, or fear. So Will is not home. Not a big surprise, sadly, as he's been absent from this home for more than a few nights in the past few months.

I ease myself out of the bed and stumble into the bathroom to get ready for the work day. A hot shower helps me shake the grogginess from my head. I dry myself and step out of the shower, wrap my robe around my body and pull my wet hair into an untidy bun. I wander out of the bedroom and down the hall to where my son should still be peacefully sleeping. I ease the door to his room open and creep inside, move to crib. My son sleeps peacefully, his tiny chest rising and falling steadily with easy breathing. I'm overwhelmed with love as I watch him. I could stand here and watch him for hours, but I only have a few minutes. After a little time passes, I turn back around and make my way downstairs. It's time for a little coffee.

As the coffee brews downstairs, I dress and fix my hair for the day. I grimace a bit as I apply foundation underneath my eyes to try and hide the dark circles that have become regular visitors there. All of a sudden, I feel old. As I finish applying the mascara my cell phone goes off. I check the caller. Will's cell.

"Will?"

"Hey, JJ."

I don't bother to hide the annoyance in my voice. "Where are you?"

"Stuck in traffic. The boys and I stayed out too late at the bars last night, so I crashed on Fletcher's couch."

"Oh. You could have called."

He sighs. "I know. I should have. I'm sorry, babe." As much as I like that southern drawl of his, it is really starting to get on my nerves.

"Are you going to be home soon? I've got to go to work in half in hour, Henry just got up, and I don't have time to take him to the babysitter this morning."

"20 minutes at the most. I can take him to the babysitter, don't worry babe."

"Don't call me babe. Just get home." With this snap I hang up. A little harsh, perhaps, but I'm not in the mood to deal with Will's excuses. This has happened too often in recent history. I check on Henry one more time (still sound asleep in his crib), so I head back into the bedroom to finish getting ready.

DC traffic sucks. I say the same thing to myself every time I make the commute to work. I hit the backup from a horrific three car pileup, and subsequently am later to work than I should be. Commuting from so far out makes life more stressful, that's for damn sure. But being alone in the car gives me time to think about my dream. Bad dreams are fairly commonplace, considering that I'm an agent that works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit for the FBI. I've seen the most terrible, the most awful things, things most people couldn't imagine in their worst nightmares. Despite my training and experience with the job, it still does get to me from time to time. Was there something that happened recently, that could have triggered this?

We just came back from an assignment in New Mexico, a typical sicko serial murderer with an extreme oedipal complex and a penchant for carving women up with a hunting knife. Not one of the smarter killers we've tracked, but very mobile and difficult to track. But that doesn't explain the dream. We weren't near any lakes in New Mexico, I don't remember seeing any brick walls. It was cold in my dream, not hot. I frown in concentration, trying to remember more details. The hand was small, too small to be Will's, and it was pale, but very strong.

I'm fairly certain I've had dreams like this before, too. But then again, I'm not a profiler like my colleagues; don't have the background in psychology.

As I finally pull into the Quantico parking lot, I realize that turning down Hotch's offer to become a profiler was one of my better moves. They were all brilliant people, but you give up something to do what they do. Garcia and I shield ourselves from what we can, but only so much can be kept out. Reid was in many ways emotionally retarded, Morgan couldn't trust anyone, Hotch had an impenetrable mask, and Rossi withdrew from certain parts of the world. And then there was Emily Prentiss.

Although Emily was no longer new with the team, she was the choice that I had agonized over after Elle left. Brilliant, multilingual, paper perfect. She burdened incredible emotional pain like the rest of the team, but she seemed the most vulnerable to it. Even though she is an amazingly capable woman, there are some days that I just look into her eyes and want to give her a hug. Perhaps she was too much like me in some ways.

I gather my things and make my way through the security checkpoint before I make my way to the BAU offices. Home sweet home. As I push open the door I see that I'm not the only one running a bit late.

"Agent Jareau," Hotch greets me in the hallway with his trademark even tone and serious countenance.

"Morning, Hotch. Traffic was terrible today."

He nods in agreement. "I only just got in myself."

"Anything new for us today?"

He shakes his head. "Not yet. I'm hoping we can clear up most of the paperwork from the New Mexico case today, its been piling up this week and I'd like to get it out of the way while we have a bit of quiet times on our hands."

He stops at the coffee pot on his way through the bullpen, and offers me a clean cup. "Want some?"

I wave it away. "Already had mine. I guess I'll get on it, then, I'm a little behind."

He nods.

I make my way to my desk, wishing my coworkers a good morning as I go. Reid is trying to look absorbed in a case file, but I see that he's really reading some book on psychology. I chuckle and tap his shoulder. He smiles a sly smile before an object goes whizzing by me and whacks Reid on the head.

"Hey!"

The culprit, Morgan, is grinning like a Cheshire cat and waving from his desk. "Good morning, JJ. What's up with you girl, I never beat you to work!"

I groan and roll my eyes. "Don't get too used to it, Morgan. Bad traffic, just one of those days."

Reid throws the object (now identified as a foam stress ball) back at Morgan, who catches it easily.

"Now boys," I chide gently, and move past them. Emily sits at her desk, absorbed in filling out some paperwork. I smile and pat her shoulder gently as I walk around her desk.

"Hey, Em, how's it going?"

She looks up from her paperwork and smiles at me, setting down the pen and stretching. "Oh, you know. Only like the best day of my life filling out paperwork and closing case files and talking to our inept friends at the Albuquerque field office. How's little Henry?"

I can't help but beam. "He's great. Growing like a weed." I wonder, briefly, if Will had made it back before Henry had woken up. This makes me scowl.

Emily notices. "What's wrong?"

What had Garcia said? "I hate profilers."

I try to shrug it off, but Emily is smarter than that, knows me better than that. "What?" she repeats patiently.

"Will's been annoying me lately. Maybe I'm being unreasonable."

She shakes her head, and I can read the scowl on her face at the mention of Will's name. She's never liked him. "I doubt that, JJ."

I half smile. "Well," I say with another pat on Emily's shoulder, "I've got paperwork to do. And Morgan and Reid aren't getting anything done, so someone's got to work."

I can feel her eyes examining my features for any tells, or whatever profilers look for, but she eventually agrees, "yeah, someone's got to earn their pay."

With that I finally reach my own desk. I thumb through the stack of papers that have been placed on my desk and let out a groan.

It's going to be a long, long day.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Besides my dreams with Emily Prentiss, I own nothing.

Thanks for the few that have review, I appreciate the feedback and encouragement. Please keep it coming, more and more, my muse feeds on the knowledge that someone is waiting for the next chapter. Without further ado, here comes the next installment.

Safe Ground

Hours later, same location. I shift in my seat to prevent my butt from going numb, I sit back and rub my temples to ward off the slight headache that threatens to creep into the space between them. More than once today, I've had the urge to steal Morgan's stress ball and throw it at Prentiss, who has remained rooted to her spot, a few bathroom trips aside. I can't explain why, but I have a nagging itch to get into her brain today, even though I know that with such a talented profiler like her it is nearly impossible. I feel that something is wrong. Call it woman's intuition.

I really wasn't kidding when I said it was going to be a long day. The life of an FBI agent can be extremely exciting, a kind of superhero action lifestyle, but that's only sometimes. The rest of it is long hours of filling out paper, coordinating with local police departments and field offices. Other than the few jibes I've exchanged with Rossi and Morgan at random intervals during the day, it has been a rather lonely turn at the office.

Sometimes bureaucracy makes me want to scream.

It's well past 5 before I'm able to look up from my desk and feel that I've made a sizeable dent. Hotch and Rossi are discussing something in his office, Morgan and Reid are on their phones respectively. Doing work, I hope. Prentiss is still absorbed in paperwork, her face looks too serious. I want to ask, but stop myself. She's busy right now. Her head snaps up though, when Morgan lets out a short yelp. It appears Reid has finally returned the favor with the stress ball from this morning.

Those boys. Incorrigible.

"Hey Em," I walk up to her desk with my most enthusiastic grin. "Have we saved the world yet?" What was that? I never joke.

She chuckles. "Whoo, JJ, watch out, or you'll be vying with Morgan for the corniest jokes in the team."

I blush. Dork move. I was just trying to break the ice. It got her to smile, though, and I feel a sense of accomplishment.

"Well, I know how much work that Reid and Morgan got done today," I hold up a hand and form a zero with it, amidst protests from the boys. "But how did your day go?"

She leans back in her chair and stretches. "You know, same old. These are all ready to go, though," she pats a stack of file folder and then sticks up the thumb. "I've earned my tax payer dollars for the day."

"You boys could learn a thing or two," I call to Reid and Morgan, and wink at Prentiss. She smiles and ducks her head. But, wait.

Is that a blush on her cheeks?

Nah, probably just the light. I quickly pick up the file folders. "Thanks, Em."

I need a break now. Some pointless juicy gossip, maybe, something light. There's one that I can always trust for that. I work my ways towards the tech labs.

"Hey Pen," I offer a wide grin for my best friend as I walk through her door. Quirky, fun-loving, and cheeky, gossiping with Garcia was one of the highlights of my long days at the BAU. She and Morgan provided the rest of us with constant entertainment. More than that, she was a true and loyal friend, which was rare in this day and age. I squeeze my her shoulder in affection.

"Well if it isn't my good friend Jennifer Jareau. I think it's been decades since we've spoken."

I smile and swat her arm playfully. "Oh, stop with that, you drama queen. It's been 5 years at the very most."

She laughs appreciatively at the joke. Boy, I'm on a role today. At least this one was more graceful. "You got anything good for me today, Jayj, or is this strictly a business visit?"

"No this would be non-business related," I pull over a chair and sit next to her. She in turn, rotates hers to face me. "Oooh, sounds serious."

I shrug. "I don't want to be dramatic or anything. I just wanted a friendly ear to yank."

"Yank away, darling."

"Will hasn't been coming home at night." I lay it out as simply as I can, with as little emotion as I can, which in truth isn't too terribly hard. So much for light, pointless gossip.

"Oh, God, Jayj, I'm sorry."

"He says he's out drinking with his buddies. To some extent I believe that, but my gut tells me that there's something else definitely going on here."

"Jesus, JJ, how long has this been happening?"

"A few months. I've kind of stopped caring, though, he's quite loud when he's in the house anyway."

Garcia's mouth is hanging open. It doesn't take her too long to recover, though. "Are you upset?"

I sigh. "At first, yeah, but when he's home we kind of just pick fights with each other. Stupid things sometimes, sometimes big things. We're actually rather civil to each other when he's not at home surprisingly. We don't have anything in common, Pen. Even the fact that he votes Republican and I vote Democrat annoys me, and I know that it really shouldn't. Sometimes that's endearing, but he's just so damn grating about it."

She looks at me pensively. "Well, lots of couples have little in common but they still work."

I scoff. "Please, Garcia. Look at you and Kevin. You're practically the mixed gender sides of the same coin."

She crosses her arms. "And what does that mean exactly?"

"That you're both incredibly smart, quirky, and undeniably nerdy. It's why you attract so well."

She nods. "Touché. And long has it been since you two have done the nasty?" I cringe at her words.

"Months. I just don't want to anymore." I sigh. "Maybe I'm just overreacting. Could be post baby issues, I don't know. I just..." I hold my arms out in defeat, "I'm annoyed when he's not around, but when he his I wish he'd just shut up. "I just don't know what to do."

I feel Garcia envelop me in a warm hug. It feels good to hug a friend, and I squeeze the blonde tech back with everything I have.

"I'm sorry, Jayj. That really sucks."

After a few moments I pull back with a loud sigh. "Thanks, Pen. I'll figure this out eventually, I just feel so damn helpless right now. All I care about is that Henry is taken care of."

Garcia nods furiously. "We'll make sure of that, I promise JJ. And hey, if you don't have to be home early tonight I'm going out with the boys for a beer. Might be good to get your mind off these things, you know? I think we're leaving soon, if you feel done for the night."

"Actually, that sounds fantastic, Pen. I've got to go shut down my computer." With an appreciative smile thrown over my shoulder, I head back towards the bullpen, where Reid is trying to juggle a series of office objects and Morgan is watching him and cracking up. Even Emily watches with some measure of amusement. It's only the third smile I've seen from her today. Morgan sees me come back in and waves.

"Anyone up for a beer? I'm buying!" He sure is in a good mood today after avoiding doing paperwork all day. "I know a new place, too, a buddy of mine from the gym said we should go there."

Reid shrugs. "I'm in."

"Cool I'll just grab Garcia and we'll head out then." Morgan turns and heads towards the elevators to meet up with my blonde friend. I feel, all of a sudden, that we're missing something.

"Wait. What about Prentiss? Isn't she coming too?" The brunette is missing from her desk. I frown in confusion. She was just there a few moments ago.

Reid answers. "She told Morgan that she had made previous plans for the evening so she went on without us." Literally, she was there just a few seconds ago.

I nod. "Ah, I see."

Rossi and Hotch are still absorbed in some paperwork, chatting together in Hotch's office. We wave bye to them on our way out. I need to call Will and ask about Henry. I flip open my phone as we make our way to our respective cars.

"Hey, JJ."

"Hi, Will. Are you at home?"

"No, the little man and I are at Jason's house watching the game. Is that okay?"

As much as I would like to see my son, some time to decompress has been sorely lacking in our schedules as of late. "Yeah, actually, I wanted to grab a beer with the guys so as long as he gets to sleep at a decent time I'm okay with it."

"Cool!" Will replies brightly. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." Boy, does he seem like a happy camper.

"Okay, bye."

The conversation troubles me, but I don't have the effort to analyze it right now. Maybe I'll get one of the profilers to do it for me later.

We drive to a place in the DC proper area, an Irish pub. It's a relaxed place, not a lot of cops or agents, which is where we usually frequent during the after work hours. It has a wide variety of beers from around the world, which Garcia and Morgan chatter over enthusiastically, doing a little shameless flirting in the process. Reid tries to explain in detail the history of the brewing of beer, but my brain is too tired to absorb the information, so I just smile and nod inanely. Reid is a sweet guy, a victim of his own brilliance, but dear God I am way too tired to show anything but thinly-veiled politeness right now.

Morgan's friend from the gym shows up, a burly guy who obviously spends too much time with his dumbbells. Garcia is instantly entranced, enthralled by the man candy that surrounds her. The man introduces himself as Carl, and he suggests that they go to a club near downtown for a little dancing.

"I'm in!" squeaks Garcia, snaking her arm through Morgan's.

"Me too," Morgan gives a thumbs up, and throws a look at Reid, "and so will the good doctor."

The poor boy tries to protest, but Carl and Morgan guilt him into it in a matter of seconds. Garcia turns to me. "Dancing, Jayj?"

My body feels tired, it begs me to say no. "Sorry, guys, baby duties mean I've got to get my sleep when I can. I'll see you guys tomorrow though."

They wave goodbye and head out the door. I make my way to the bar, decide to order another beer. 20 more minutes couldn't hurt. The TV behind the bar is playing the a soccer game, so I sit at the bar with the beer, happy for a little time to veg.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a tall, leggy blonde enter the pub. She draws the attention of the males in the area instantly, one even offers to take her coat, but she shrugs him off easily. I've seen this woman before, a high powered prosecutor that works for the Attorney General. She's been on the news before. I watch her strut her way to the back of the pub, she's definitely here for something, or someone. She makes her way to a corner booth, out of the direct light where a person sits and waits. Ahh, a date. I watch intently, try to make out the face of the person that she's about to join. Must be fairly important, if a beautiful and powerful woman is so attracted to him.

But I see now that's not a him. The hair's too long, the neck too slender. And the woman slides into the booth next to her date, right into her, molding their bodies together and instantly fusing their lips together for a fiery kiss. They move their heads with such fervor, and the light finally falls on them both, so that I can see the woman she's with. Wait, is that…oh God yes it is. Oh my God.

"Oh my God."

Umm, review. Am I on the right track?


	3. Chapter 3

Part three! Thanks for the feedback, guys, it has really help spur me on. I have tests in the upcoming days so I won't post part four until the weekend, but I hope that this part has enough tasty tidbits to keep you thinking. So review, review, review and let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own. Still wish Prentiss were mine.

Safe Ground

"Oh my God."

I'm having a bit of a Humphrey Bogart moment, 'of all the gin joints in the world, she walks into mine'. Or I guess if she knew I was here, it would be here who would be Humphrey.

It's Emily Prentiss. My coworker, my friend Emily Prentiss. Kissing a woman. Not just kissing a woman, making out with, necking, snogging, Frenching, tongue wrestling with another woman.

"Oh my God." It's only now that I realize that I've been saying it out loud, and the bartender is looking at my oddly. "Is everything all right, ma'am?"

"I know that girl!" the words slip out from my mouth before I think them. The bartender chuckles, he's noticed who I've been staring at. "Oh yeah, her."

"What do you mean?" My eyes must be as big as saucers; I'm opening and shutting my mouth like a fish. My hands are palms down on the bar; my eyes are glued to the two women who are completely oblivious to the world around them. And I mean that. They are going _at it._ The attorney has shed her jacket and so has Emily, her hands are tangled in the other woman's hair, and it looks like she's gripping it fairly hard.

"I don't know her name, but I think she's a cop or something. She has a gun and stuff. She's in here once or twice a week, with one of several of her _friends._" He overemphasizes the word for effect.

"Several?"

"Yeah. Kind of a player, don't you think? But hell, look at her, do you blame her? She's one hot lady"

We stare at the pair for a minute or two more. "Hot," he says, and then whistles a low whistle. Then he smiles at me. "Another beer?"

No, no more beer. I've got to get out of here before Emily and her make out buddy come up for air or nourishment and I'm discovered. The very thought of it makes my cheeks flush with anticipated embarrassment. No, definitely no more beer. I've had my fill for tonight. I pay my bill as quickly as I can get my wallet out from my purse and almost sprint for the door.

My head spins with thoughts and questions the whole drive home. Many of them involved the phrase 'what the hell?!' or any one of the many variations that can be made from it.

_Prentiss. Emily Prentiss._

I had no idea. No idea. She never gave any indication, not one. But then, come to think of it, she had never given any indication of romantic inclinations one way or the other, ever. There was the incident with the ex boyfriend and her old friend, but she was a teenager when that had all occurred. Things can certainly changes in the later formative years, especially college. Come to think of it, she'd always used gender neutral terms when she mentioned dating in general. I had just never paid attention.

But Emily Prentiss. Gay. Or bisexual, or whatever. And a womanizer, to top it all off!

Well Emily was a beautiful woman, I guess there would be no reason why she couldn't go out and get whoever she wanted. Even if one them was a high ranking attorney in the Justice Department. And they both looked like they certainly had some skill. Might be kind of hot if I wasn't so completely flabbergasted by it. I know Morgan would've had a field day with it, if he had been here to see it. Garcia and he would have given her so much shit… so for her sake I'm glad I was the only who stuck around. I hadn't seen her arrive, either. Was she already there and hadn't seen us? It seems like she would have turn and run in the opposite direction if she knew that the rest of the time was there in the pub.

What. The. Hell.

I'm still confused as I pull into the driveway. Do I tell Garcia? Or Morgan or Reid? I need to think about this more. But later, Will's car is in the driveway and I hate to say it's odd for him to be home when it's only about 11. I worry that something has happened to Henry.

"Hello? Anyone home?" I call as soon as I walk in the door.

"Shh," says Will, who's on the couch watching television. "He's out for the night, don't worry."

I plop down next to him on the couch and realize it's the first time we've been in the same room at the same time and both awake in over a week. He leans over and gives me a rough kiss on the cheek, I try to keep from wincing as his stubble cuts my skin.

He sighs and takes my hand. I remember my dream, look at his. Not the same hand.

"What's this, JJ?"

I look up at him. "What?"

"What's going on between us? I mean, it's been pretty damn weird for the past six months."

"I don't know, Will. Maybe it has something to do with you never wanting to come home."

He drops my hand. "That door swings both ways, darlin', and you know it." His voice has developed a hard edge to it.

I am silent, partially because he is right, and partially because I'm sure the next thing out of my mouth will be pretty childish anyway. We let a few minutes pass before Will looks up at me again. His eyes have changed. They are now full of sorrow.

"Jayj, I need to tell you something."

Oh. I feel like this has been awhile in coming. I am a little afraid, I must admit.

"What is it, Will?"

"I did something stupid. Really stupid."

He shifts and puts his elbows on his knees, cradles his head in his hands.

"Just tell me, Will." My voice is calm, surprisingly calm.

"I slept with someone else, JJ."

The airs rushes out of my lungs like I've been slugged in the stomach, and my stomach starts to feel like it, too.

"I'm an asshole, and I know it. I let my impulses get the better of me because we haven't had sex in months."

"Who was it?" Voice is still calm, but I can feel the calm is hiding the storm.

"Remember Jason, I play basketball with him on the weekends? Well it's his sister."

"Angela, the cop?" Angela the dedicated hard-ass cop, Angela the hottie with the big jugs, Angela my 'loyal friend' Angela? She had seemed so nice when we'd met. All of a sudden I feel like splitting open Angela's pretty face with my fists.

"Yeah."

"Jesus, Will."

He's crying, his hands are shaking. He watches me with scared eyes, waits for the damn to break, for me to hit him, yell at him, anything. But no. Yelling and fighting would only wake Henry up, which is unacceptable.

"Do you love her?"

"No. I don't know, Jayj. We've been apart for so long, I feel like we're strangers in our own house."

"I understand," I say.

He looks astonished. "What?"

"I understand. I've been wrapped up in my job lately, and that's my fault. But my job is my life, Will. I know you've tried to compromise for me, but I can see that it took too much of a toll on you. I'm sorry for that. But nevertheless," I stand, "I think you should get out of my house right now."

Without a word he goes upstairs and packs. When he comes back down, I'm waiting by the door.

"Let me make this perfectly clear," I say, "I'm not going to cut off your access to Henry at all. You can pick him tomorrow if you wish. But you are not to sleep here. Got it?"

His eyes are full of tears. "I'm sorry. I love you, JJ."

I slam the door in his face.

I cry a little bit when he leaves. I feel betrayed, I feel a bit guilty. But I don't feel any regret. This saddens me. I wish I felt _something_, instead of this big void of confusion that fills me inside. I wish that Henry were awake, so I could hold his warm body to mine and cry. But I don't. Instead, I prepare for bed and climb into it with a heavy soul. The bed is cold.

Sleep, mercifully, is quick in coming.

_I'm drowning again. The pain is so real, the cold water cutting through my skins like thousands of tiny knives slicing their way through the body, down to the core. "Help," I scream, but I am underwater, and no one can hear me._

_Help, someone, please._

_I claw at the water above me, kick my legs, but it seems like weeds emerge from nowhere and tangle my feet until they can no longer move. _

_So I die here. _

_I stop struggling. My hair floats in front of my face slowly, as if suspended in slow motion. So I die alone._

_But then, a sound. The hand again, and the arms. Thin strong arms. I gulp in great lungfuls of cold night air and the arms pull me against a warm body, soft. Embracing me._

"_Who..who?" I'm shivering, my teeth chatter._

"_Just relax, Jennifer, it's going to be okay."_

_I obey, relax into the warm embrace._

"_Who are you?"_

"_Just relax, Jennifer," a pair of soft warm lips on the child skin of my forehead. I look up…_

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep…

GODDAMN IT!

I wake up, instantly in a bad mood. My husband cheated on me. I found out my coworker and friend has been hiding things from me.

Why does that bother me? Not the cheating thing, that's obvious, but the Emily thing? I can't get the questions I had from last night out of my head, they're all mixed in with the moments where I try to pinpoint where Will and I stopped being an 'us'. Now I'm really in a bad mood.

Then I hear Henry crying over the baby monitor. My son must sense my turmoil, and his tiny powerful voice is wailing for attention. I hurry into his room. "Shhh, little Henry." I pick up my son and bounce him around, rub his back and soothe him. I feel a little bit better, holding his warm little body to mine, feel his heartbeat. Eventually he quiets, and I change him, feed him, and clothe him to get him ready for the babysitter. A nice older lady who watches her own grandchildren, they've been my neighbors for years. I check my cell to see if Hotch or anyone else from the office has called. Nothing.

I shower, dress, and shove a banana down my throat. Coffee will wait until the office. A kiss for Henry, drop off at the babysitter, and I'm on road.

The commute is thankfully not too bad, so I'm at work earlier than most of my colleagues as usual. Only one has arrived before me again, and I groan internally when I see who it is.

Emily Prentiss. Just my luck.

Certainly a different Emily Prentiss than I saw last night. Hair back in a sleek ponytail, well pressed suit. I pour myself a cup of coffee in the bullpen as I see she's already made a nice big pot (late night for her as well, I assume, and the thought makes me blush).

I make a little too much noise as I rattle the pot against the coffee maker, and she notices my presence.

"JJ, good morning." Guarded, professional Emily Prentiss, just like I've always known.

"Umm, hey Emily," I walk over to her desk with my coffee. "How's it going? Good night?"

I curse internally as soon the words sneak out of my mouth. God I'm usually never this out of sorts. Too much stress.

She eyes me critically, squints and tries to read my features like a profiler. "Yeah, it wasn't too bad. How about you?"

I sigh. I'm a terrible liar. "Not so good, actually."

"Oh, I'm sorry for that." She genuinely does look sorry. "Do you, like, want someone to talk to or something? Or is it too personal?"

I have an urge to hug her, but I resist. Talking to Emily would be a bad thing. I would just blab all about what I'd seen the night before, maybe even spill the beans about my grand failure of a marriage. I feel so utterly helpless.

"Morning, guys," Rossi has entered, carrying a paper and a very large coffee and breaking me from my muteness.

"Good morning," Emily calls to Rossi, and I wave in return.

I look back at Emily.

Oh, why the hell not?

"You know what," I say, "how bout we get some lunch today, you and I? We haven't talked in ages."

A smile spreads across her face. "I'd like that. Sounds like fun."

God, Jareau. I am asking for trouble. Just stepping right into it.

"Great," I reply. "I'll see you at one, then."

What the hell?


	4. Chapter 4

**I've emerged from this week alive! Yay! So I made a technical error, and I hope that you'll forgive me. Turns out that Will and JJ were never actually married, so the word husband and marriage seem to be inappropriate (just replace them with boyfriend and relationship and we should be good though). This doesn't really change the direction I was going in with the story itself, but it does make things a lot easier for me, and you'll find out what that means later.**

**On a minor note, I'm looking for a beta who has knowledge with Criminal Minds (and a JJ/Prentiss fan wouldn't hurt either), because I do most of my writing late at night when I'm tired and have a tendency to leave out words, add an s where it doesn't belong, etc. If anyone can help out, that'd be a big help.**

**Enough rambling. On to the story. **

It hasn't really been a good day. And I love my job. Really love my job. There isn't anything else in this world I'd rather do, despite the occasional heartache and troubles that it gives me. But today I have other things that I'm worrying about, and I can't really enjoy my work, and leaves me in a sour mood.

My stomach's been in knots all day. The way I left things with Will… it's not right. I owe the man some answers, and he certainly owes me some, but I can't help but feel like somewhat of a bad guy here. He was the one who moved up here, to live with me, to take care of our son. I was the one who worked such long hours. He gave up a good part of his life for me. Now I'm blaming him for missing a step or two. It's not really fair.

And I'm distracted, trying to think of ways to make it right. But to make it right, I need to know what I want, what both of us want. And I just don't know.

I don't know what I want, other than Henry to be happy and healthy. I smile at the picture of us on my desk, his chubby little cheeks puffed out with a happy grin.

My phone rings and brings me back to the real world, where I have work to do.

"Jareau."

I spend most of my morning on the phone with various agents from headquarters. Turns out that several of the field agents in Albuquerque had submitted incomplete reports and they needed more information than they had to be satisfied with closing the case. I spend hours on the phone, faxing, emailing, going through reports, and tracking down files. Like I said, the FBI is only partially fun and games.

By the time I hang up the phone for the last time, half the day is gone. I rub my neck with one hand to try and work out the kinks. But good news, it's almost one.

Wait. I had that lunch with Emily today. The potentially really awkward lunch with Emily. The knot in my stomach tightens a bit. What a week.

All of a sudden Reid knocks on my door. "JJ, come here, quickly."

I spring out of my chair, half expecting a crisis of some sort. I follow him through the bullpen and into the hallway, where he stops and points. "Look!"

It's Emily's mother, Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss. She's on the phone with someone, and I let my breath out in a rush, relieved. Then I swat Reid on the back of the head.

"This is what you hauled me out of my office for?!"

"Ouch," he rubs the back of his head ruefully. "Sorry, she's a little bit scary."

I hold in a chuckle and give Reid my best 'idiot' look before I approach the ambassador, who is now off the phone and walking down the hallway.

"Ambassador Prentiss, I'm Agent Jareau, hello," I extend my hand, and she takes it firmly, like a true woman of power. I can see where Emily gets a measure of her self confidence; it just flows off of Elizabeth Prentiss. I can see the family resemblance in the eyes and cheekbones, but she must have gotten her mouth from her father.

"Agent Jareau, good afternoon," she replies with a polite smile. "Is my daughter at lunch yet, or is she still here?"

"Umm, well, she's still here, I believe. At her desk."

"Good." She sweeps past Reid and I and into the bullpen. I follow with great interest.

"Mother," Emily stands from her chair so quickly that I'm afraid she'll knock it over.

"Can we talk privately, Emily?"

She crosses her arms nervously. "I'm at work, mother, can it wait until tonight or the weekend or something?"

I see Elizabeth Prentiss step closer to her daughter and her voice drop. Emily rolls her eyes and motions her towards the nearest enclosed room, which happens to be my office. I creep as close as I dare and strain to hear.

"What's going on?" Derek Morgan whispers from behind me.

"I don't know."

We lean forward as far as we dare to hear the conversation.

"Emily I got a very interesting phone call from Martha Rogers today. Want to tell me what that was all about?"

"I would have no clue, mother."

"Don't be coy with me, darling. Do you know how many times I've had to calm Martha down because of this?"

"Jackie's a grown woman, mother, and so am I, so I think you need to..."

"Okay," Morgan grabs my arm and steers me towards his desk. "I think we've listened long enough."

I yank my arm away, frowning with disappointment. "What the hell, Derek? You wanted to hear just as badly as I did."

He sits at his desk and flips open a file. "None of our business, Jareau."

I cross my arms. "Usually I am the one to tell that to you, Morgan. What's the deal here?"

He shrugs, and doesn't meet my eyes. I'm no profiler, but that's an obvious sign of avoidance. "Oh come on, Jareau. Give me a break." He gives me puppy eyes and I relent, only because Emily and her mother are walking back out of my office.

I pretend to look busy and stand behind Morgan, gaze at the file that he's flipping through.

"JJ?"

"Oh hey," I elongate the second word and try to sound nonchalant. "What's up? You ready for lunch?"

She sighs. "Actually can we talk for a second?"

I step away so that Morgan's just out of earshot. "Sure, what's up?"

Emily crosses her arms and leans into me, dropping her voice for privacy. "So, as you can see my mother decided to show up today. And she wants to talk to me about something."

"Okay."

"So is it okay if I take a rain check on today? What are you doing for dinner?"

"I don't know yet." Frozen dinner at home probably. I remain nonchalant for appearance's sake.

"I know you want to get home to Henry, but what about a quick dinner of Chinese food at that place that Rossi usually eats at?"

"Yeah, sure. Sounds really good." It does actually. I like Asian food.

"Oh, and sorry about your office," she gestures towards my open door, where her mother stands with a very serious look on her face.

"Not a problem, Em. I'll see you later," I pat her shoulder awkwardly to try and show support. Smooth move.

She half smiles. "Thank Jayj, I appreciate it." She turns on her heel and heads towards the exit, Elizabeth hot on her heels. Something's definitely up. And I have a pretty good notion of what the lunch time conversations going to be about.

Lunch plans gone, I buy a granola bar and a bag of pretzels from the vending machines downstairs and head to the tech room. A nice talk with Garcia might distract me.

"JJ! Two days in a row, I feel special," she pulls up a chair next to her and pats it in invitation.

I plop down next to my blonde friend and rip open the pretzels. "Lunch plans fell through. Probably for the best, though."

Garcia slurps her cup-o-noodles. "Why, were they with Will?"

"No. Speaking of Will, guess what he told me last night?"

"What?"

"He cheated."

Penelope's jaw drops. "Oh my God. I'm going to kill the bastard."

I sigh heavily. "Don't. I just…needed to tell someone."

She sets down her noodles and rubs my back. "Are you okay, Jay? I mean, this is really… he fucking cheated!"

I feel the knot tighten as I picture Will's crying face and sorrowful eyes and am filled with a deep feeling of regret and sadness. "Not really, no."

She continues to rub my back, as if expecting me to cry, but I can't seem to find any tears. "I'm angry, but at the same time I feel like its partially my fault."

"Don't think that way, honey. No one deserves that."

"I never accepted his marriage proposal, Pen. He moved his whole life to be with Henry and I here in DC but I can't commit to the man, and he's the father of my child! What does that say about me?"

Garcia wraps a protective arm around my shoulders and draws me in for a hug.

"I feel so bad. I don't know what to do." I finally feel the tears begin to prick the corners of my eyes, but hold them in. Now is not the time.

"What do you want, babe?"

"I don't know." The most honest answer I could have given. "In the meantime, I kicked Will. I hope I'm making the right choice."

"You've got to talk with him, you know that right?" Garcia reminds me gently.

"Yeah, I know. But not now."

I talk with Garcia for a little while longer, glad to have such a supportive and loyal friend. She tries to distract me from my problems with a little gossip. Morgan comes in and they flirt for a few minutes. I finish my makeshift lunch and go back to my downstairs.

I know there are things I can't control, but at least I can control my work. There are phone calls to make, faxes to send. The team files back in to the bullpen after their lunches, Reid and Morgan first, then Rossi (who gives me more work to do), then Emily, who looks rather irritated.

I sigh as my phone rings again.

"Jareau."

At least there's Chinese food to look forward to tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys, chapter 5 is here! Sorry it took so long, school has been extremely crazy this past week. The next chapter is already in the works, but I also have finals next week, so please be patient with me. Thanks to all the help I received on this chapter, I really do appreciate it. So happy reading, I hope you all enjoy it.**

**I don't own. Just my dreams with Prentiss ^_^**

Safe Ground

"I like this place."

"Me too." I do. It's a small place, a mom and pop shop that Rossi swears by. He always orders the same thing, so it's often that the office smells like mushu pork when we work late hours at the BAU. I order sesame chicken and she orders broccoli and beef, and then convinces me to order a beer as well. After a long day, though, it doesn't take much more than a gentle arm twisting. It's quiet, so we can hear each other talk. I like that.

We chit chat about random office things, complain about Strauss (who always seems to have Hotch and Emily in her crosshairs), joke about Reid and Morgan's antics. It's nice. It's easy. We smile and laugh like friends do. I often wonder why we aren't better friends, but I know that's because we throw up our own personal walls. Especially with colleagues. We talk until the food comes, hot and delicious. I dive into the sesame chicken with gusto, as my meager lunch of pretzels wasn't exactly filling.

We talk of work, paperwork, and our minor annoyances with the bureaucracy that we must adhere to on a daily basis. While it is true that we receive a bit of leniency as such an elite and mobile group, everyone must obey the rules. No one knows that better than me, as the press liaison and the one who had a major say in which cases our team took. I carry a bit of a burden because of this, wonder often if I had missed cases and allowed innocent people to be killed. But it is nothing compared to the burden the profilers bear. They see the society's absolute worst, they immerse themselves in the deepest darkest regions of the most twisted minds that humanity has to offer. They each deal with it in their own way.

It's easy to talk with Emily. She has a biting wit about her that everyone in the team finds charming, she has an incredible sense of loyalty to her friends, and she's just as smart as anyone else on the team. She fit in so easily with us after Elle's departure, immediately falling into step with Garcia and I as the small but powerful female contingent at the BAU. She handles Morgan and Reid quite easily, understands Hotch and Rossi.

But her most amazing quality is her empathy. She deals with victims and their families better than anyone else on the team. She has such an ability to comfort others, but rarely allows others to comfort her. This makes me sad.

We talk and eat. The conversation eventually turns away from work, as it eventually would. I dodge questions, though, when she brings up personal lives. She watches me with critical eyes. I really hate profilers sometimes. There's something on her mind.

"You've got something on your mind, Jareau, spit it out." I have a moment of internal panic. She's a profiler; can she sense my personal turmoil? Besides Garcia, I'm not ready to share what's been going on between Will and I with anyone, not even my own parents. I try to play it cool.

"Nuh… nothing… I swear…"

Emily sighs heavily and swallows a big gulp of her beer. My stomach threatens to drop into the bottom of my shoes.

"I saw you there, JJ."

"What?" It comes out as a squeak.

"At O' Bannons pub last night. You were sitting at the bar, jaw on the floor. I know the reaction, believe me. Let's just say Mother reacted in a much more negative way when she discovered my in bed with my roommate at Yale."

"Oh." I feel an odd mixture of relief and disappointment, which doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me right now. "I wouldn't have said anything, Emily, I swear. I'll keep my observations to myself."

"It's not about that, JJ. I'm not really ashamed of who I am, but involving personal details like that with work can get messy."

"The Bureau doesn't discriminate against gay people, though." She winces at my words.

"I really hate labels. I've been with men, too, but as the years go by, it's just easier being with women. More of a fit for me."

"Is it really that easy?"

She looks at me somberly and shakes her head. "Of course it's not. But after all these years there's no point in dwelling on any emotional agita that my sexuality crisis caused me as a girl. I _am_ a grown up."

There's quite a bit of bite to her tone, which takes me aback. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean any offense," I offer meekly.

She immediately looks apologetic. "Oh God, no, it's not you, JJ. I just..." she sighs heavily and looks at the ceiling. "It's just that my mother certainly knows all the right buttons to push when it comes to me."

"Is she not okay with you being, you know, being with…" I'm so awkward I could crawl under the table and die. If she notices, she ignores it, but she smiles at my as if trying to comfort me, and I feel just a bit better.

"Is she okay with me dating women? She doesn't really have much of a choice, I think she learned that long ago. It's just…the choice of this woman in particular, the one that you saw me with, that had her panties all up in a bunch."

"Oh?"

"Yeah she was Jaclyn Hutchinson, daughter of Richard and Martha Rogers, old money family that Mom's been friends with for years. Jackie's married to a Senator's son who also has political ambitions, so me knocking boots with a future Senator's wife isn't exactly the best for political ambitions. And for the record, I'm not really dating Jackie. We're more like… friends with benefits." She clears her throat nervously. "And I have more than one…friend I mean."

"Wow." I must imagine that my face must look interesting, a mix of fascination and complete and utter shock. She eyes me, worry now creeping into her features.

"What?"

"It's just… I don't know. You're Emily! My friend Emily. And I don't know, I never knew that you were such a … such a…" I try to think of a more intelligent way to say it but end up going with the original word.

"Such a pimp!"

I expect a laugh, or indignation, or maybe even a 'fuck you' would be pretty appropriate, but she just looks me with intense eyes.

"So, we're friends, yeah?"

I blink, thrown off by her reaction. "Umm, yeah? Yeah. If that's okay. I thought we were."

Now she smiles, enigmatically.

"Yeah, I like that."

I can't help but smile warmly back at her. We break eye contact and eat a little more in silence, until I feel confident enough to ask a new question.

"Does anyone know about this?"

She stops eating, and reaches for her beer glass, only to find it empty. She looks at the bottom of it intently, as if staring will make it refill itself with beer before she answers me. "Actually, yeah, Morgan knows. I've been his wingman a couple of times when we've gone out to some bars after work."

"Morgan. Really." I sit back, processing the information.

For a second, I'm hurt and jealous that it was Morgan that knew before the rest of us, especially me. She must read this on my face because next she says, "Well, it wasn't really my choice that he found out. We happened to be at the same strip club while I was with … a friend. He saw me there so he kind of forced me to spill the beans."

"Strip club?!" I can't keep the incredulity out of my voice.

She nods. Is that a blush that is creeping onto her pale cheeks, or the sudden ingestion of alcohol?

"Yeah. I'm saying too much, I'm making you uncomfortable, I'm sorry."

"That's not it at all, Em." Actually, there is a bit of truth in that, but I would never admit that. "I'm actually glad you told me." There's also truth in that. I won't lie and say there's a not a measure of complete and utter shock involved as well (last night was pretty much a testament to that), but that's beside the point now. No one is without skeletons in their closet.

"Yeah?" her voice sounds hopeful.

"Yeah, of course." She smiles again, and I match it happily.

Soon we both finish eating and its time for me to get back to Henry and home. She follows me to my car, as if she's being protective. I'm sure she doesn't realize that she's doing it, but I quite enjoy the chivalrous act. I'm not exactly a damsel in distress, and she's not exactly a knight in shining armor, but I've never believed in fairy tales anyway. The thought makes me chuckle inwardly. I pull out my keys from my work bag and turn to Emily with a smile.

"Well, thanks for the escape, Em. We never get a chance to hang out."

She mirrors my smile, genuine and unguarded. "This has been great, JJ. I'm glad I can talk to someone about all this, I hope I didn't dump too much on you at once."

I grab her wrist comfortingly. "It's good to have someone to talk to. I'm here if you ever need me."

"We'll do this again, okay?"

"Definitely."

We hug as we part. She's surprisingly strong for such a seemingly small woman, but I suppose I shouldn't expect anything less from the indomitable Emily Prentiss. We say our good nights, and head our separate ways. My day feels a little less like shit, but its not over yet.

* * *

I pull into the driveway soon after leaving Emily at the restaurant, eager to see my boy and hold him. Coming home to Henry every day is the best reward I could ask for from life, totally unexpected and yet welcome. I frown when I realize that Will is probably going to be here waiting, and he is, once again sitting on the couch. He stands as I enter, looking nervous but resolute.

"Can we talk?" he asks in his slow drawl.

"Yeah, I think we should."

"I'm so sorry. I hope that you know that." I do. Will is sincere, if nothing else. It's one of his better qualities.

"I know you are, Will."

We talk for hours, about what we think went wrong, about how we want to change. We talk about our fights. Hours pass, and it's too late to continue. I don't tell him everything I want to say to him, I'm too tired, and I don't feel strong enough yet. I also feel like he's not saying everything to me, He's a coward. I'm a coward, too.

"I'd like to try again, JJ."

"You can move back in, but I'm still not sure about us yet. I want some space." A cop out answer.

"That's okay, we'll take it slow."

I think of my son, sleeping upstairs. He needs his father. I can't cut Will out of my life, but I'm not sure if I still want him in it. The man is offering himself to me, but I can't commit. I feel like shit. I seem to be waiting for something that I've only experienced in a dream. I'm a grown ass woman, and should know better than that.

"Henry deserves for us to try." I say, but I'm still not sure.

Will steps forward and envelops me in a hug. These are not the arms from my dreams. But I embrace Will anyway, because the dreams arms are just that.

Only a dream.

I have that same dream that night. The arms hold me as I cry, clutch at the fabric that covers them. A voice whispers to me that it'll be okay. That it will be over soon.

I awake in tears. Once again alone.

**Review! Please make my day a little brighter, this next week is going to suck haha.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Well I made it through finals alive, which I am happy for and very ready for a well-deserved break. I want to thank everyone for their patience in waiting for the next chapter, as well.**

**I also want to thank some (but not all) of my readers for their encouragement and kind words during the process of writing this story. is a medium for fan expression, and is a completely voluntary action on part of both the writer and the reader. I do this for fun, with no pay. I write this because I want to, and I appreciate the tolerance and appreciation of my creative process and hope you appreciate my story. You do not have to read this story if you don't want to, but those who do and comment with positive thoughts or constructive criticism make my day so much brighter. You lot are the reason I keep writing (well that and my fantasies of one Emily Prentiss) so I'm very thankful for you lot. **

**Enough of the sappy stuff. On to the new chapter!**

Safe Ground

Days fold into weeks, fold into months. We're swamped at work; I spend many hours on the plane going through files, playing cards with Reid and Morgan, watching Rossi and Reid play chess, talking with Emily. I truly appreciate my colleagues, and with the amount of time we've spent in the field these few months, I've learned to rely on them more and more.

Will moves back in. His clothes take their place beside mine, pressed shirts and trousers in the closet, tee-shirts and boxers and jeans in the chest of drawers. It seems inevitable. I know it's terribly cliché to say that the clothes don't seem to fit next to mine, but even after a year of being with the man, kissing him, laughing with him, sleeping with him, it seems weird. It seems foreign. It seems like moving backwards in time, which my psyche won't accept. Time doesn't move backwards, after all. Only forwards.

But we manage to make it work for awhile. A few months. We have the impression that things are going to return to the way they were. To laughter and hugs and fun flirting. But it doesn't. Life isn't that simple.

We don't exactly fight. I wish it was something that tangible. More like, I've become indifferent. Indifferent to his tricks and charms, to smiles and small touches. He arm upon mine is a mild inconvenience at best, his kisses rough and harsh upon my skin. I don't understand it, and I can't change it. I wish for Henry's sake that I would try harder, I believe that my boy shouldn't be without his father, but why do I still live with the man when I can't stand it when he holds me when we're in bed?

Life is odd.

I'm becoming closer with Emily. I tell her, in bits in pieces, what's happening with Will. At first it's uncomfortable, trusting someone new, but Emily doesn't press. She just listens, in that quiet supportive way that we have all come to recognize from her. She's always been good with victims, with their family members; she has a warmth and comfort about her that makes her a valuable asset to the team.

And, as I've slowly been discovering, an even more valuable asset as a friend. But it's unfair to think of Emily as an asset. She's a person, with her own flaws, and her own fears, and her own personal walls. When something as simple as a hand on the shoulder makes me feel a little less alone, her flaws as a person seem unimportant. Between Garcia, and now Emily, I feel a little more complete.

The job that we do on a daily basis means that we're cut off of many of life's simple pleasures. Pleasures that most people take for granted. Feeling safe in your own home, for instance. I know we all sleep with our weapons within arms' reach. Or peace of mind. Having to fight a battle within yourself to breach security or to ensure that your child is safe. To understand that struggle and that pain in another, and to care about their pain and have that person care about yours is a rare occurrence.

But these months are chaotic. A serial rapist in Pittsburg, fledgling serial killers in Provo, Minneapolis, and LA.

We're wrapping up the LA case and I think I've escaped this year. Birthdays amongst the BAU members that occur in the field often slide, the victim escaping due to extenuating circumstances. But when a birthday occurs while we're swamped in paperwork at Quantico, it becomes a premier event. I keep my mouth shut and do my best to play it as cool as I possibly can the week leading up to the big day. Garcia knows when my birthday is, but she can be a bit scatterbrained about non-computer related events so I feel that I am going to escape their.

Reid is a different matter. The boy has a mind like a steel trap, and I am sure that it would occur to him. Which is why three days before, I threaten him under pain of death to keep his mouth shut. He knows better than to cross me.

It's nearly 5 o' clock, the day of. Friday. Will has taken Henry to Louisiana for the weekend, with my blessings. I'm actually looking forward to going home, drinking a few glasses of wine, and watching some pointless television. An old movie, or the Food Network, perhaps. Something quiet, something normal. As soon as the clock clicks to the new hour, I quickly and quietly gather my bag and my coat. As I turn the corner, I feel I'm almost free.

"JJ!"

"Keep walking," I tell myself softly. "Just pretend you didn't hear."

"Jennifer Jareau!" And then Morgan darts in front of me, effectively cutting off my escape route. I groan, defeated.

"Oh, hell no. You are so not getting out of it this time," the handsome agent beams a smile at me and lifts a bag with tissue paper sticking out of the top.

"It wasn't me!" I hear Reid squeak. "I swear."

I close my eyes and groan again while Morgan laughs heartily.

"Happy birthday, JJ!" Emily, Hotch, Reid, and Garcia are all standing behind me holding a brightly decorated cake adorned with candles. I blush and smile, and they begin a terrible rendition of Happy Birthday that would make dogs howl.

"How about a beer, JJ?" Morgan beams his million dollar smile at me, and I shake my head and smile.

"Only if you guys promise not to sing any more!"

------

We go to our usual pub. Garcia orders me a pint of beer, and I can't say no to a birthday present or two. Penelope and Reid, being Henry's godparents, combine their presents. They've bought the growing Henry a bigger car seat.

"Open the card," Reid offers the envelope to me and I take it with a smile.

"Dear JJ," it begins, "Hope you have the happiest of birthdays. This card is good for one night of babysitting from us. Love Spencer and Penelope. Aww you guys!"

Reid looks at Garcia quizzically. "Babysitting?"

Pen's face is covered with a Cheshire cat grin. "Don't worry boy wonder. We're gonna do fantastic."

I embrace both gratefully.

Morgan is next, a lewd card and a battery operated foot-massager. Next a bottle of nice scotch from Rossi, and a bag of fine Colombian roasted coffee beans from Hotch. Lastly, I open the bag from Emily. It's a CD.

"Chopin!"

She clears her throat nervously. "I know that you played Beethoven for Henry while you were pregnant, and I think the boy needs a good foundation of good music."

"I like Chopin." Her face looks expectant, the tiniest big vulnerable. I'm suddenly endeared to her, to the out of character, doubtful countenance. I beam a genuine, warm smile at my friend.

She smiles, relieved. "Oh good. I'm terrible at these things. It's a good thing that I work with you guys, no one else would appreciate my nerdiness."

"Hear, hear," Reid raises up his glass, and we laugh.

It's a good night. I smile and laugh freely like I haven't in awhile. I feel genuinely good, surrounded by my friends, who are my second family. There are presents, jokes, and beer. Not a bad birthday after all. The last time there was a BAU birthday, it was Morgan's, and we hauled the poor man to a local steakhouse where they sang to him and made him perform this atrocious dance for the whole restaurant. A tale which we recount for the poor man, who covers his face in embarrassment.

Then Rossi indulges me by inviting me to play a game of darts. I'm quite proud of my prowess at the bar game, I would play it with my brothers at the small pool hall in East Allegheny and I was (and still am) the family champ. It was also a favorite pastime of mine in college whenever my soccer teammates and I would bar hop, as it was a great way to get free drinks. I defeat Rossi, Kevin, and Morgan in quick succession, even though they all know better than to challenge me. Still, it's my birthday, and they're good guys, good friends, and they're willing to get their asses handed to them by a girl one night a year.

The beer flows. A few beers and a couple of trips to the ladies' room later and life feels much better. Rossi and Hotch are watching a football game on the TV hanging over the bar and at the same time engrossed in a conversation about it. Morgan and Reid, it seems, have finally kicked the bikers off of the pool table and are racking up for a game. I sit with Pen, Kevin, and Emily.

"Another round?" Emily stands and points around the table. "Anyone?"

"Just one more," Garcia not-too-subtly elbows Kevin in the ribs. "Kevin'll help."

"Ow! Yeah, I'll help carry," Kevin tosses his girlfriend a sullen glance and follows Emily, rubbing his ribcage. Garcia watches them until they're out of earshot.

"Okay so you need to spill little missy."

I tip back my beer glass to collect the last mouthful at the bottom. "What do you mean, Pen?"

"You and Will. Have you kicked his gumbo eating ass to the curb yet?"

I shake my head. "No, he moved back in."

My busty friend's jaw drops and her eyes fill with fire. "What the hell, Jayj? I can't believe you let that dog on your front lawn, much less let him back in the house!"

I don't normally share my private life so freely, but the alcohol loosens my tongue. "I have to try it with him, Pen. He's the father of my son. I have to try."

Garcia sighs heavily. "Well, do you love him?"

It's a simple question. It is. I just have a hard time answering it. A simple yes or no question. Why is this so difficult?

"I don't know, Pen."

My best friend reaches across the table and grasps my hand with one of hers. "I'm worried about you, you know?"

I nod.

"You know, Emily's worried, too. We can help, if you want."

I nod, but force a smile. No use being depressed right now.

"A great help would be another beer!"

Pen just shakes her head, and then Emily and Kevin return.

She clears her throat uncomfortably as she returns with more beer. "Sorry to interrupt," she offers as she holds out the cold beverage to me.

I laugh, "You're ridiculous. I was just here talking with Garcia."

Garcia shoots daggers at me with her eyes, but lets it go this time as Kevin gives her a kiss on the cheek. I down half the beer quickly, eager to drink the bad feelings away. I need to get the focus off of me. I turn to my brunette friend, who's watching me with keen eyes.

"Why aren't you in a relationship, Emily?"

She almost chokes on her beer, then coughs wildly to clear her throat. "What?" she croaks. She glances in Kevin and Garcia's direction, only to find their seats empty, and out on the dance floor.

"You're a beautiful woman, you could probably have anyone you wanted." The one little part in my brain that's not tipsy is screaming at me, but I can't seem to stop my word vomit.

She looks incredulous. "I'm not very good with relationships, I guess."

"So you prefer friends with benefits?" And there it is again with the word vomit.

She's now looking into her beer glass solemnly, like she did at the Chinese restaurant. "No, but it's easier in the long run."

"Less painful," I reply. She nods, still looking down. I have an intense urge to reach across the table and grasp her hand, hold it in my own. Instead, I gulp the rest of my beer and stand from my perch on the stool. "Time to pee and then more beer!"

-------------

Hotch and Rossi are the first to leave, wishing me a happy birthday and then goodnight. Reid follows soon after, and then Kevin and Penelope. Morgan has already left, he found some nice pretty woman while he was playing pool with Reid and they had no doubt left the bar together.

The rest of the night passes in a random blur. Emily sits patiently next to me on the stool sipping on a bottle of water while I continue with my random word vomit that I'm sure I will regret tomorrow.

"Hey, JJ, I think it's time to get you home," she eventually chimes in. I look around. The pub is beginning to empty.

"Oh, okay Em." I slide off my stool, determined not to make a fool of myself on my way out the door. I don't even make it to the door; I stumble into the jukebox like a plastered sorority girl. I'm in no condition to drive home. Shit. Suddenly I feel a warm hand on the small of my back.

"Come on, I'll drive you home. Give me your keys."

Emily drives me home, while is it in the passenger's side mutely, still feeling the pleasant buzzing effects from the alcohol I've consumed tonight. I keep glancing over to Emily's profile in my alcohol-induced haze, watch the moonlight reflect off her perfect alabaster skin and contrast with the darkness of her hair.

"You really are a beautiful woman, Emily," I tell her as we're pulling into the driveway. "You shouldn't be afraid of relationships. I mean, just cause I'm a huge failure at them doesn't mean you have to be."

She smiles at me sadly. "You're drunk, Jayj. Time for bed."

"No, wait," I grab her wrist as she opens the car door. "Don't go. I want to talk."

She looks at my hand on hers, sighs, and looks up at me. "Tomorrow. We can talk tomorrow, Jayj."

We finally get out of the car and make our way to the door. She opens it for me and hands me the keys in silence.

"Breakfast, tomorrow," I tell her as I'm about to close the door "We're gonna talk about this, it's gonna be great."

I'm too inebriated to analyze the look on her face, but she nods and says okay. We say goodnight, and I close and lock the door. I'm barely out of my work clothes before my eyes are closing, and I fall into the bed's soft warm embrace.

But still I dream.


End file.
